


On Flirting

by poquimo



Series: Happy Little Experiments [1]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: Drunken Shenanigans, Dysfunctional Relationships, F/M, Ficlet Collection, Implied Relationships, Multi, Platonic Life Partners, Rating May Change, Romantic Friendship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-11
Updated: 2013-10-11
Packaged: 2017-12-29 03:08:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,488
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1000159
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/poquimo/pseuds/poquimo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Any would have gathered from Varric's tales that he and the Champion parted on amicable terms-- and still would never know just how amicable they had been. Being of similar disposition and humor, it was not long before Varric and Hawke began to teeter within a "category" of their own making, having breached the lines of friendship, but fallen just short of passion.<br/>Starts in Act 1 and goes to Act 3/End of game.</p>
            </blockquote>





	On Flirting

**Author's Note:**

> This work was inspired by a scene in Protector of the Small with Neal and Keladry where they refer to an almost kiss as a "happy little experiment" that should not be repeated. I wanted to go back and retell some scenes and exchanges that happened between Hawke and Varric that he would have certainly withheld, and play with the idea of the pair sharing a romantic-friendship despite Hawke being in love with Anders and Varric still in love with Bianca.
> 
> It takes some bumps and awkward exchanges before they get it just right and these drabbles are the climb to it.

It was Wintersend and as such the day had been spent by most visiting the vendors in both High and Lowtown. The opening of the theater had entertained most of the the nobles for the greater part of the day and of course a marriage was certainly being conducted every hours-end.

Outside the air still held the scents of roasted meats and the dull sounds of voices and merry music in the distance. The sun had fled the sky hours before, even though it was not yet mid-night. There was a bite to every breath, the cold of winter not yet gone from the shores of Kirkwall despite what the calender had claimed.

"On Wintersend in Minrathous," Fenris said, words slightly slower than usual. "They would compete at the Proving Grounds. Killing and maiming one another for the _Magisters’_ pleasu—”

“Someone get another drink in his mouth before I put my fist in it.” 

For this merry band of adventurers however, it was a time for drinking and Wicked Grace— a typical evening, though with perhaps more alcohol than was entirely necessary… or wise. Fenris and Isabela walked pressed together, his arm around her shoulders as they both attempted (and failed numerous times) to keep balance together. There still was perhaps a chance to see a show it seemed if Blondie and Broody had any to say on the matter. Varric chuffed a laugh as Hawke promptly placed herself between the pair and steered Anders away with an arm looped underneath his own.

"Yes— thank you for your input." came Hawke’s nervous, but clipped reply. "Let’s not start a bout of fisticuffs with the man who could put his fist in your mouth and out the back of your _head_.”

Anders scoffed and Fenris’ lips flared wide in a most rare grin. A most rare, and most unnerving grin. Isabela seemed as eager as Hawke to have the men escape unscathed and had (after Fenris took a moment to bask in his alpha status and Anders took a moment to hurl a quickly formed _iceball_ at him) scurried away with her prize after a short farewell before either of the two men could say another word. They could hear Isabela teaching him a bawdy limerick half a block away still.

 

"Shall I walk you back to Darktown?" Hawke asked, turning her attention to the mage with barely veiled eagerness. However, despite how positively lovely she looked with her cheeks flushed with drink and her bright eyes turned with unbridled adoration at the object of her most recent and tender affections— Anders shrugged off her offer with a wary chuckle.

“No need. Even the cutpurses and cutthroats have to take a holiday. I imagine the only danger I’ll face is tripping over a drunkard and landing in sick.”

"Sounds like Tuesday." Hawke offered, though the joke came with a dryness that was uncommon of her disposition.

He barely laughed, “Quite right.” 

The mage paused, eyes flicking over her for a few very tense and very unbearable to watch moments. Varric feared he’d dislocate a muscle with how hard he rolled his eyes at the exchange. Anders seemed uncertain what to do with his hands as he balled them into fists then released. He whispered something, a faint good night it sounded, and headed off towards where the stairs leading down to the dark alleyways beneath the city lay.

Hawke watched him forlornly and once he was out of view, heaved a heavy sigh. Her entire demeanor deflated with disappointment and that would certainly just not do on a holiday eve. Not in the dwarf’s mind.

“So, here we are. A girl and her trusty dwarf!” Hawke made a good try of sounding enthusiastic. Though truly, she would bounce back quick enough in time. She did at times have a flare for the dramatics, especially with any scrape of an audience present. It was one of the little things about her Varric found rather endearing-- though he'd be dead before he fluffed her up anymore by saying it.

“Aye. The world is our oyster. Shall I escort you back to that piss hole Gamlen calls a home?” Varric even gave a short graceless bow and offered her his arm. It only came up to her stomach. He was awarded with an exagerated giggle and a scandalized gasp.

“Why, Mr. Tethras! People shall see! They shall talk. What will mother say?”

“”Maker’s breath! Did you two burn down a brewery?”” he said, mimicking her mothers inflections to a T.

 

With a laugh she took his arm, linking them together despite the vast difference in height as they walked into the dark. It was not too long however before Varric gently patted the top of her hand.

“You’ll get through to him eventually.”

“Maker I hope so,” she said with a sigh, relieved at the chance to talk about it. “He is as infuriatingly tenacious as he is infuriatingly gorgeous.”

“You know, Chuckles, this is a lot of effort to put into this. If you’re just looking for company, the Blooming Rose is only a hop and a skip away. Take my advice, _men_? Are like puppies. You get attached, you bring them home and then they will shit all over everything you love.”

"There is an image." Hawke snorted, deftly avoiding the subject of how deep her feelings for the mage went, "And do you not count yourself among these pups?"

"Maker no! Dwarves are entirely different beasts."

Hawke hummed in thought, “Something sturdy I wager.”

"With incredible stamina."

"Really? I Suppose you are going to tell me now that they "don’t call you the "stout" folk for nothing"?"

"Oh, sweetheart, you have no idea.”

She bit her lip as she considered this. Hawke had been gifted with an incredibly full mouth and one sharp forked tongue to go with it. Varric was certain he admired both, but the first he could admire more openly as she worried her bottom lip with her teeth then slowly let it pop free. How Anders could resist her ability to so effortlessly demand attention was utterly beyond him. She shrugged her shoulders lightly. Testing.

"Enlighten me."

Varric stopped, a chuckle coming deep from within his chest as he shook his head. He looked up at her then with a slow smile that somehow managed to warm Hawke right down to her toes and said lowly, 

"Wouldn’t you just love that."

He _felt_ her shiver.

It was then, with the pair stopped now in front of Gamlen’s home, that the girl and her dwarf began to gradually come to the realization this exchange of witticisms had gone incredibly too far. They had inched towards a territory neither was sure how they had stumbled upon and found there that the flippant humor from before had slowly but surely… evaporated. Mortification had now taken the place of whatever feelings had sprung up unannounced along with a churning feeling in the stomach akin to butterflies-- if said butterflies had spiked iron wings.

Hawke was deathly silent, giving time for Varric’s pulse to start thudding in his ears as he called himself every kind of idiot and tried to think through the sudden baffled explosion of rabble in his mind. Things such as, _what the fuck possessed him_. Were they not just talking of her pursuit of Anders a second prior? It had just felt— felt so damned natural. All of this felt so damned natural it felt _unnatural_ and that was just not something to think on with an ale addled brain. He stifled down the urge to groan at his own expense.

"Perhaps…" Hawke said slowly, picking words carefully. Even the quiet way in which she spoke felt entirely too loud, but despite that Varric swore he heard his heart as it smacked into the bottom of his stomach. 

"…I would."

Varric babbled. _Babbled_. He, the great wordsmith and storyteller, suddenly had a tongue too big for his own mouth. There were no discernible words among the nervous laughter and fumblings to find something damn well hilarious to say to draw power back to his end, but at last she released him with a forced high-pitched laugh of her own and a punch to his shoulder. Clearly his befuddlement had disheartened her as much as himself.

"Andraste’s granny panties, I was only joking. Get out of here you lech, before I call a guardsman."

She snaked her arm away from his and hurried up the stairs so quickly she nearly missed the last and tripped, catching herself only just. Her face was inflamed now and her shoulders were visibly tense as she pulled open the front door and slammed it behind her.

Varric was left in the cold, his heart now somewhere in the vicinity of his boots and his mind fixed upon the hope that by firstlight they’d remember none of it.

Of course, they would.


End file.
